The Divine Hunter

Lammas arrived not too long ago. The shops in Novigrad were still decked out with festive decorations, and the people's houses had garlic and mistletoe hanging within them. A gust of sea breeze blew in from the port and crossed the Golden Sturgeon.

Lund took a deep breath and downed his Vizima stout. Its foam splattered, filling the air with the scent of malt. The sun shone on his bloodshot eyes and glimmering, yellowing teeth.

"Ye made a ton o' money, didn't ya? Ne'er seen you orderin' a stout." The wrinkly bartender filled Lund's glass with more stout. He placed his arms on the table and rested his chin on the back of his hands. "Care to share some o' ye secrets?"

"No secrets at all. I'm still doing the same old spice business. The captain struck gold and got himself one big deal. Got some commission out of it. Made enough money to last me for years." Lund wiped off the foam on his beard. His face was red and rough from having to face the seas all year long. "But I ain't as young as I was. Gonna retire after this gig. 'Tis why I wanna drink summat good for once. You got any problems with that?"

"Not at all. Retirement's a big thing. Ye can't treat it like it's nuthin'." The bartender thumped his chest. "Drinks are on me when ye come back."

"I'll be taking that offer, thanks. Don't regret it, though." Lund slammed his glass down and turned around. He noticed a new customer coming in. The man was cloaked, and his nose was broken, but the air he radiated spoke of war and battle. And the man took a seat in the right corner of the inn.

"Till next time, bud. The boys are still waiting for me. Time for me to go." Lund straightened out his greasy jacket's collar, grabbed his hat, and put on his cloak. He stood up and wobbled to the exit, wiping his hand on the cloaked man's table when he went by him.

He emerged from the inn and whipped out a slip of paper. A smile curled his lips, and he made his way to the circular port in western Novigrad.

Carefully, he walked, his cloak and hat covering up his hunched body. Lund went into remote alleys, twisting and turning around the corners, and yet he kept looking around him as if he were worried something might happen.

He muttered a prayer under his breath. "Almighty Freya, let me pull off one last one. I shall tithe every month. Please let this go well."

Perhaps his prayer worked. Aside from a few beggars, Lund didn't run into anyone. Not the fearsome Eternal Fire guards nor the meddlesome witchers.

The great sun shone upon Novigrad's luxurious port. Glimmering were the seas, and upon it stood rows of ships, their masts swaying in the face of the breeze. Seagulls squawked in the air. Some swooped over the sea's surface to hunt, some hopped on the reef beside the shore, while some basked in the sun on some ship's deck.

Lund's eyes were set on a blue barge. He went around the sailor pushing a cart and approached the rightmost warehouse on the port. A pair of guards in brown chainmail armor, grey hats, and swords stood sentry. He nodded at them and entered the warehouse.

Within it stood two dozen sailors, all lean and equipped with weapons. And two women were seen standing among them.

The man in the center wore a hooded cape that covered most of his face, but Lund could vaguely see his thick hair, dark mustache, and amber eyes.

"Lund, you son of a bitch. You took your sweet time in that inn. I thought you went and got yourself killed," the man beside the hooded figure cursed. He had a red face covered by a horned helmet. "You're getting punished for this. No bonus for you."

"And no deal for you then, Hammond. I risked my life getting intel for everyone," Lund said darkly. "If you wanna punish me, then all bets are off."

"Alright, stop it." The hooded man raised his hand and turned his attention to Lund. "So, what did you get?"

"Everything's fine, boss." Lund grinned toothily and handed the slip of paper to the man. "We can do it tonight."

The hooded man nodded, a look of ease on his face. "Everyone, get in the carriage. We're gonna wait for the cargo on the ship. This is going to be perfect. Once we return from Skellige, everyone's getting a twenty percent bonus."

"Oh, nobody's going anywhere." A voice spoke solemnly, and everyone's face fell.

Someone kicked the warehouse door open, and in came a burly man in tight leather armor and two swords strapped behind his back. His head shone under the sunlight, and the look on his face was tense.

He tossed a man onto the ground. That man had a broken nose and was hidden in a cloak. The same man who gave Lund the information he needed. And Lund looked horrified.

Two more men came in after the first, but these two were slightly slimmer than the first. They wasted no time in tossing the unconscious guards onto the ground. The door was closed behind them, and the men crossed their arms, staring at the group with mockery in their eyes.

These men had one common trait: their wild, amber eyes.

"Witchers?" The group took a step back, their eyes filled with caution. They held the hilt of their weapons, but none tried to make a move. Their boss was as powerful as a witcher, and now they were facing three of them at the same time.

"Who are you? Do you not know the rules here?" The hooded man took a step forward and swung his hands down, telling his men to stay calm. "Trespassing on private warehouse property is a serious offense, and I'm good friends with Novigrad's Judge Shayd." He announced, "Once I take this to court, you'll be paying a hefty fine. You do not want this."

"Are you stupid, mate? You’re a witcher. Haven't you heard the latest news?" The witcher with a receding hairline picked his teeth with his pinky. There was disdain in his eyes, and he shook his head. "You know who we are."

"The church has requested us to arrest any and all human traffickers in Novigrad. They're trying to crack down on human trafficking," the man with crimson eyes and a scar on his chin continued. He shook his head. "Just when I thought we were going to rid this city of its human trafficking problem, you show up. Why wouldn't you take on requests like most witchers? Why did you fall so far? This is a disgrace, Cat!"

Lambert added, "Why do you think he did this? Everyone else is scared of us, but not a witcher."

"I am no human trafficker." Jad Karadin pulled his hood off, revealing a rough, hairy face. Calmly, he said, "This must be a misunderstanding. My crew and I strictly deal with legal business. We sell Novigrad's local produce to Skellige and come back with the isles' spices and herbs. Legal business. Viper, Wolf, and Cat. How may I address you?" Karadin quickly looked at the witchers' medallions.

Aiden remained silent. He had no idea who this man was.

Karadin didn't mind. "No law states a witcher can't do business." He turned around and pointed at the cart behind him. "If you don't believe me, then search this place. There's nothing but legal products and supplies for the journey."

"Ye might be enforcers fer the church, but that doesn't give ye the right to slander us." Hammond thumped his chest in fury. "Yer gonna make life hard fer us."

***

Letho shot the human traffickers an icy look. "We aren't going to find anything in the cart, but I have a question. The amount of supplies grossly outweighs the number of crew members. There's enough for you to survive a whole year." He hissed, "Unless most of the supplies are for the coming slaves."

Lambert's eyes shone, and what came out of his mouth after that horrified the human traffickers. "Your real cargo will be shipped to that blue barge tonight at ten."

Aiden went in for the final kill. "Number two hundred and sixty in the slums. Twenty-five boys and sixteen girls. Your friend told us everything. We shall apprehend you now. Lay down your weapons and surrender. Await the court's order. Perhaps you may live."

Jad took a deep breath and exchanged a look with his partners. He curled up, taking the stance of a hunting cat.

"Witchers, you're doing this all for money, aren't you? I can pay you double what the church is offering, but in return, you'll turn a blind eye to this. Easy money, don't you think? And I swear the cargo contains no Novigradian. They come from other lands. No harm done, so why don't you let us off the hook?"

"Double isn't enough." Lambert grinned toothily. He looked at everyone like they were objects. "There's like twenty of you here. Ten times the payment at least."

The half-elf fired an arrow at Letho, but it was as slow as a tortoise to the witcher. Letho easily swatted the arrow aside, and it ricocheted into the chest of one sailor.

The unlucky bastard clutched her chest and fell back down.

"Vienne's dead! Avenge her!"

This is not going to end well. "Attack! Kill them all!" Jad roared.

His men charged at the witchers, swinging their weapons.

"Leave Karadin to me." Aiden held his blade by his cheek, assuming the ox stance. He stared at Jad, and the witcher looked at him as well.

Sparks flew in the air.

Lambert blocked the exit like a guardian swordsman, while Letho crossed his dual blades before his chest and charged at the sailors.

There were three of them, but all they saw was a blinding flash of light, and they lost all consciousness. They didn't even see how Letho moved. Blood gushed out of their neck and chest as they fell forward like puppets who lost their strings.

Letho turned around and leapt into the fight like a tiger jumping into a pack of sheep. He spun around like a tornado of death, tearing his victims apart inch by inch.

Two sailors charged at Lambert, and the Wolf took one step ahead. With a twist of his blade, he cut one sailor's throat open. He shoved the second sailor down with Aard and pierced through his eyeball and brains.

As he wiped the blood off his face, two more sailors snarled and approached him. He let them land attack after attack until Quen was finally destroyed. And then he swung his blade around.

The sailors clutched their throats in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, and they fell, knees first. Then their heads hit the ground.

Lambert leapt into the fray, slicing and dicing the sailors and burning them up with magic. A symphony of blades, flames, shockwaves, blood, and screams played in the room.

Blood drenched the hay. In less than twenty seconds, Letho and Lambert had killed all the regular humans here.

The Cats were still fighting in the other end of the warehouse. And what a fight it was. Every time their blades came in contact, loud clangs would echo through the warehouse. The speed at which they battled even conjured up a wind strong enough to make the hay shiver.

"Not bad." The Cats took one step back. Karadin's shoulder was injured, and his breathing was ragged. He looked at his fallen comrades, his eyes filled with fear and sorrow. "But why? Why do you work for the church and fight your own brethren?" he roared. "What about the code of neutrality?"

"You're asking that when you're breaking the code yourself?" Lambert interjected. "Novigrad's our second home. It's natural to protect it from evil forces. To hell with neutrality."

"Good and evil are subjective." Karadin slowly took a step back. He asked, "You think there'd be no more human traffickers after you get rid of us? You think the poor children can escape a fate worse than death because you helped them leave? Perhaps they'll live a better life in Skellige! I'm just trying to survive. I'm only trying to make some money. Is that so wrong?"

The witchers were unfazed.

"That is enough twisting of the story." Aiden parted his legs and took a defensive stance that resembled a crab, and he swung his blade around. "You're the first witcher we've seen in Novigrad in months. We'll give you another option. Lay down your weapons and surrender. Now. Do so, and perhaps you may live."

"Enough deception." Jad shook his head. "The only thing waiting for me in the church's prison is torture and the stake. I have a proposition." He gritted his teeth and opted for another way out. "I worked hard my whole life and saved up a lot of money. About twenty thousand crowns. I was going to retire, marry, and adopt some kids with it."

With longing in his voice, he said, "I can bid this dangerous life farewell. No longer will I have to be a despicable witcher or criminal, but then if I were to die, the money would be of no use to me. I'll give you all my savings, but in return, you have to let me go."

He unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his medallion. Then he held it up. "On the name of my life, my dreams, and my ambition, I swear. I shall leave Novigrad and I will never return. Nor will I seek vengeance. And I will wash my hands of these illegal dealings. Should I lie, then I shall die a death of great agony and humiliation."

"Please, spare me. You know how many of us lost our minds and committed countless crimes after we took the Trial. Your mentor included. What's his name? Schrodinger? Joel? Tell me. I might know them."

Aiden kept his silence.

"And you. You must have committed some crimes." Karadin stared up at the witcher. Hoarsely, he said, "Just because I made one mistake doesn't mean I deserve to die. I deserve a second chance. I will give up everything for a chance to live."

Jad lay down his weapons and knelt before the witchers, his body shivering.

Aiden narrowed his eyes. He turned his blade around and contemplated his choices, while Letho and Lambert crossed their arms in silence. They would leave the decision to Aiden.

***

The Pike's Grotto. Novigrad's most famous and beloved entertainment center.

The witchers had taken up a table in the corner, empty glasses covering it. Letho and Lambert were still sober, but Lambert smelled like alcohol, and his face was red.

"Enough, Aiden!" Lambert threatened, "Drink one more glass and I'll throw you to the pigs!"

"He knelt. I told him to stand up only to kill him. But he knelt." Aiden stared at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. There was a hint of depression in his eyes.

Monsters, he killed a lot of. But a Cat? That was his first time. It was not supposed to be happy, but when Jad fell down, dead, Aiden felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It felt like he just ended a terrible threat and escaped a terrible fate.

Aiden was reborn, and he wondered why.

"It is how it is," Letho blurted. There was a reassuring force in his voice. "He lost in a fair battle and paid the ultimate price. At least he didn't die at the stake. That's as good a death as any for witchers. You showed him mercy, but he refused it."

"Ah, so what if you killed him? We killed off his mates. If we’d let him go, he might’ve come back someday with a vengeance." Lambert downed another mug of wine and exhaled. "This is what fate had in store for him. Not everyone deserves a second chance."

That was what all witchers said. They would leave everything to Destiny.

"To that bastard, Destiny!"

"To that bastard, Destiny!"

The glasses clinked, and foam flew everywhere.

Aiden finally put his glass down.

"You should change shifts tomorrow. Stay at the orphanage. Take over the classroom. Just leave the Eternal Fire matters to me." Lambert patted his shoulder and winked. "And go around with Eskel. Succubi have their charms."

"And Eskel would kill me." Aiden shook his head, smiling. For some reason, he felt a lot better. "And I'm not you. I don't steal anyone's woman. I don't have that kind of fetish."

"That's enough drinking, people. Let's go home." Letho stared out the window and saw a young man with heterochromatic eyes walking on the street. Standing beside him was a mousey man who walked like he owned the place. "On second thought, let's welcome our guests."

***

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